“But will you not want your rooms yourself, Lord Scoutbush?” said Elsley.

“My dear fellow, never mind me.  I shall go across the country, I think, see an old friend, and get some otter-hunting.  Don’t think of me, till you’re there, and then send the yacht back for me.  She must be doing something, you know; and the men are only getting drunk every day here.  Come—­no arguing about it, or I shall turn you all out of doors into the lane, eh?”

And the little fellow laughed so good-naturedly, that Elsley could not help liking him:  and feeling that he would be both a fool, and cruel to his family, if he refused so good an offer, he gave in to the scheme, and went out to arrange matters:  while Scoutbush went out into the hall with Campbell, and scrambled into his pea-jacket, to go off to the yacht that moment.

“You’ll see to them, there’s a good fellow,” as they lighted their cigars at the door.  “That Vavasour is greener than grass, you know, tant pis for my poor sister.”

“I am not going.”

“Not going?”

“Certainly not; so my rooms will be at their service; and you had much better escort them yourself.  It will be much less disagreeable for Vavasour, who knows nothing of commanding sailors,” or himself, thought the Major, “than finding himself master of your yacht in your absence, and you will get your fishing as you intended.”

“But why are you going to stay?”

“Oh, I have not half done with the sea-beasts here.  I found too new ones yesterday.”

“Quaint old beetle-hunter you are, for a man who has fought in half-a-dozen battles!” and Scoutbush walked on silently for five minutes.

Suddenly he broke out—­

“I cannot!  By George, I cannot; and what’s more, I won’t!”

“What?”

“Run away.  It will look so—­so cowardly, and there’s the truth of it, before those fine fellows down there:  and just as I am come among them, too!  The commander-in-chief to turn tail at the first shot!  Though I can’t be of any use, I know, and I should have liked a fortnight’s fishing so,” said he in a dolorous voice, “before going to be eaten up with flies at Varna—­for this Crimean expedition is all moonshine.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” said Campbell.  “We shall go; and some of us who go will never come back, Freddy.  I know those Russians better than many, and I have been talking them over lately with Thurnall, who has been in their service.”

“Has he been at Sevastopol?”

“No.  Almost the only place on earth where he has not been:  but from all he says, and from all I know, we are undervaluing our foes, as usual, and shall smart for it!”

“We’ll lick them, never fear!”

“Yes; but not at the first round.  Scoutbush, your life has been child’s play as yet.  You are going now to see life in earnest,—­the sort of life which average people have been living, in every age and country, since Adam’s fall; a life of sorrow and danger, tears and blood, mistake, confusion, and perplexity; and you will find it a very new sensation; and, at first, a very ugly one.  All the more reason for doing what good deeds you can before you go; for you may have no time left to do any on the other side of the sea.”